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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973895">kick me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/saliva/pseuds/saliva'>saliva</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pregame things (small pregame oneshots) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Eating Disorders, M/M, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Pre-Slash, Unhealthy Relationships, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:01:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/saliva/pseuds/saliva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Another pained retch came from Ouma.  Another finger shoved down his throat.  Tears escaped from his eyes when he blinked hard, vision unfocused. His hands were wrapped tightly around the abusers hand, the one causing his pain, trying to pull it away.  Saliva dripped onto the hand along with other traces of bile.  It was a grotesque scene. <br/>One Saihara couldn't look away from.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oma Kokichi &amp; Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pregame things (small pregame oneshots) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>kick me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Another pained retch came from Ouma.  Another finger shoved down his throat.  Tears escaped from his eyes when he blinked hard, vision unfocused. His hands were wrapped tightly around the abusers hand, the one causing his pain, trying to pull it away.  Saliva dripped onto the hand along with other traces of bile.  It was a grotesque scene. One Saihara couldn't look away from. His disgustingly plain grey eyes almost <em>shook</em>. His pupils were dilated, wide as if entranced. Ouma always hated yet loved those eyes. From positive to negative memories. Those eyes held the most loathing look when directed at Ouma.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> One more curl of his fingers in Ouma’s mouth caused him to gag once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saihara's other hand slid up the back of Ouma's neck, entangling into his hair and wrenching his head toward him. No words were spoken. It was almost completely silent except for the still muffled whines coming from the smaller one. "Shut up." Saihara hissed, tugging harder at his greasy purple locks. Ouma's eyes watered heavily and he started sniffling. His mouth opened slightly wider in hopes of saying something else but it only made  Saihara shove his fingers further down. "I said to hush!" He bared his teeth slightly in irritation. "Didn't I explain that this is going to make you more attractive?  More skinny? Isn't that what you wanted?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why can't you just comply with me!?" He glared before shoving the other back into the cold bathroom floor.  A loud thud came from the body. Saihara wiped his saliva-covered fingers on his shirt without hesitation. He's done this many times. "Hah... Hah... Saihara-kun please-" Ouma panted out, wiping at his face with his hoodie sleeve. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry please forgive me!" He pushed himself up on shaky arms, crawling over to Saihara.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saihara got more upset by the second. Ouma's whining was so annoying. It was high pitched and whiney. He couldn't stand that about the other. And once Ouma finally made his way over, trembling fingers trying to grasp the bottom of his pants, he kicked him in the chest. "I'm fucking done with your crying--don't touch me!" He grimaced as if Ouma's touch was the plague. And in his mind, it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a sudden rush, Saihara crouched down in front of the other, staring down at him with dark eyes. He put his hand on Ouma’s shoulder, nails digging into his skin through the loose shirt. “What did I just say-?” His anger rose by the second. If looks could kill, Ouma would be buried six feet under. Saihara was extremely close to losing his patience and snapping. He inhaled softly for a moment, but before he could do anything Ouma grabbed onto his arm that had been clutching his shoulder. Saihara felt his patience snap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    He let go, smacking away the others hand with his teeth bared.”Stop it! Don’t fucking touch me!” There were some underlying issues for Saihara. It was glaringly obvious when meeting him. The way he talked, never stuttering or skipping over his words. “God, you’re so annoying! You’re like a little twat-” He cut himself off, gripping thin strands of hair in between his fisted hand. He jerked at it harshly. Saihara was unrelenting in his punishment. Ouma should’ve known better</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Small whimpers and snivelling came from Ouma. His face was covered in saliva, bile and tears. The inner corner of his eyebrows were raised, tears continued to fall down. A pathetic sight is what Saihara would describe it as. His grip never loosened as he leaned closer, one corner of his lip quirked up slightly. “Kind of cute..” He hated that face. There was no hesitation in his movements when he pulled Ouma by his hair. He slammed his forehead against the tile floor, listening to a choked inhale Ouma made. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He loved the noises Ouma made when he was in pain. “You asked for this..” He pulled his head up, glancing at his expression. He was panting, eyes almost closed in pain. They were squinted, unfocused.. Saihara didn’t think it was cute anymore. Ouma’s head cracked on the floor this time when Saihara pulled him down. He heard a hiss come from the other and watched as blood started to mix onto the dirty floor. “Want to try to touch me again, whore?” Strands of hair were falling out of Ouma’s head at this point. The stress placed on his skull was pulling out the hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nonono..! Saihara please--I won't touch you- Let go.." Ouma tried to reason, stuttering harshly with his words. He seemed terrified. He wasn't entirely focused on the scene, nor his injury. Wide, lilac eyes looked back and forth for a moment, before looking back up at Saihara in a pleading manner. "I'm sorry! I promise I'll do better and not get  vomit  on the floor this time! I will-" Another loud crack. This time he seemed to fall unconscious, slumping in the grip. His eyes had fluttered shut, but his expression remained. Still in a light, pained grimace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good. Maybe now you can keep your mouth shut." Saihara calmed himself down now that it was silent. He liked it better than Ouma’s whines. He exhaled deeply through his nose, hands eventually falling to his sides. He fell back against the wall, his crouched posture falling apart. His legs slid down until they were straight. When he felt comfortable enough, he leaned back, ignoring the unconscious teen in front of him. Now that he was slightly pacified, he sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to have to clean you up now.. You're such a pest, Ouma." Saihara still didn't move. He didn't feel like getting up after all of that. Maybe Ouma would bleed out and Saihara wouldn't have to deal with him again. Good riddance. He hated looking at Ouma anyways. He looked so.. pitiful and sad. It reminded Saihara of his last self. Worthless. Saihara's nose scrunched up in distaste. He didn't like thinking about this stuff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Saihara pushed himself up, brushing off invisible dust. He looked down at Ouma’s fallen form. "Let's start, then.."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember that I don't condone any of this.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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